A Princess's Anger
by RebelKorra
Summary: Myrcella Baratheon was used to being treated as an afterthought by the members of the royal family. Not that she is surprised by this; she was a girl. Yet, when she visits Winterfell with the royal entourage, she finds that perhaps being ignored is better than having to speak to a certain heir to the north, who causes her to be more Baratheon than Lannister. Robb/Myrcella One-Shot


**Hi Guys. Not dead. So I have just been completely unable to write anything for the Stolen Rose lately. In truth, this is from 3 things. 1, I have not felt much motivation to write it for a while. 2, every time I have tried to write this upcoming chapter, I have really struggled for some reason. 3, I am actually writing a novel and have been for some time along with the fanfiction writing; that kind of took higher priority for me for a long time. I'm writing this little one shot to try to get myself back in the mode of writing fanfiction, so hopefully this will help! Here we go. Some Robbcella, which is actually my favorite pairing in GOT/ASOIF. I'm not going to give a specific age on Myrcella, though she is obviously quite mature here, but still a bit younger than Robb.**

Myrcella had never had much interest in seeing the north. A barren wasteland, her mother had called it, filled with savages, snow, and the occasional wolf. On the rare occasion when her father deigned to spend time with her, he had spoken well of the Starks and the north, but Myrcella was fairly certain that he had never been to the north and besides Lord Eddard Stark he had never met any of the Starks, even though their eldest was named after him. In all honesty, Myrcella cared little for what her father had to say on the matter; her mother had made what the Starks were quite clear, northern savages with a name to be feared but no brains to back it up. Hopefully, father would grow bored with the northern women and wish to return to King's Landing soon, otherwise Myrcella knew she would be stuck here for some time.

Yet, Myrcella could not help but be impressed by Winterfell itself. No matter how insistent her mother was that a princess should not peek through the window of her carriage, Myrcella continued to stare at the imposing castle with awe. Odds are that once she was within the confines of the keep Mother would not allow her to leave until the journey back down the King's Road, so Myrcella would enjoy the view while she still could. While she agreed with her mother about the north in general, Winterfell may have been the most beautiful structure she had ever seen, not that she had left the Red Keep on a regular basis. It was a beacon of dark grey looking over a sea of ethereal white with its tower reaching higher than all but the highest in King's Landing. It may not have been as complex as her home, but its simplicity only added to its radiance; Winterfell was of the north and the north was of Winterfell. Despite Myrcella knowing little of war, she found it unsurprising that Winterfell had never been taken. She had little doubt that just as the castle had stood for many ages before her birth, it would last many ages after her passing.

As the carriage passed through the gates, Myrcella was somewhat disappointed to find nothing but mud, hay, and countless grizzled northerners. The Starks were supposedly a rather wealthy family, could they really not afford to pave the inside the grounds with brick or stone? Per usual, Mother was the first to leave the carriage along with sweet Tommen, while Myrcella walked behind them alone as always. She swallowed the slight hurt and focused upon her posture. Mother always said that a princess must look refined, perfect, and effortless all in the same instance and she would certainly not forget that, even amongst the northern savages. Her father had finally managed to make his way off his horse and was busy meeting the Starks, upon whom Myrcella was finally able to lay her eyes.

Eddard Stark was exactly as Mother had described him, bearded, grim, and long-faced, though Myrcella thought she could detect an odd kindness to his demeanor, something which she had not expected in the slightest. Catelyn Stark was similar, though with a much easier smile and a far prettier countenance, even in her older age she was still quite beautiful, though now in a more regal manner than the younger ladies of King's Landing. Myrcella froze when her gaze landed upon the next figure for surely this was some cruel joke. Standing next to Lady Stark was the most handsome man Myrcella had ever seen; he seemed to be something out of some simpering young maiden's fantasies. Even from a distance, his deep blue eyes were stunning especially when coupled with his curled auburn locks and though Myrcella thought him to be only a few years older than herself he had the strong figure of a man grown, as well as a strong jaw and chiseled features. If the seven gods crafted the perfect man, it would be the man before her and there was no way in the seven hells that he could possibly be Robb Stark. She had heard Edmure Tully was quite attractive so it may possibly be him, but Myrcella was quite certain that the heir to Riverrun was settling yet another dispute between the Brackens and Blackwoods so that was quite unlikely, and this man was clearly of Tully blood. This must indeed be Robb Stark, no matter how unlikely it seemed. If Catelyn Stark was not widely known to be insufferably honorable, Myrcella would have thought Robb Stark to be the bastard of another man. How could a northerner be so handsome?

Myrcella was interrupted by her thoughts by a slight nudge on her shoulder. She turned around to find her sworn shield, Ser Arys Oakheart behind her with a grin on his face. "I believe you will cause a scene if you continue staring at the Stark lad and delay any longer princess, no matter how handsome he may be." The knight japed.

Myrcella scoffed. "I was only taking in the surroundings Ser Arys, nothing more."

"Aye. I believe you have found one view to be particularly entrancing. Move along now princess, wouldn't want your mother to suspect anything." He finished with another light nudge. Though it was likely improper for a knight of the Kings-guard to lay a hand on her, Myrcella did not mind in the slightest; she had always gotten along well with her sworn-shield, even if he was a bit too watchful for her own liking.

When Mother and Tommen finally finished their greetings with the Starks, Myrcella knew it would be her turn and attempted to refocus. She was thinking much more highly of the Starks now and did not want to make a poor impression upon them. She gracefully approached Lady Stark with her nose slightly raised in a manner befitting royalty and waited for her to curtsy before dropping into a slighter one. She was a princess, so though Lady Stark may be the wife of the Warden of the North and a friend of the King she did hold a higher rank than her as a princess. "It is an honor to meet you Princess Myrcella. I hope the road has treated you well?" Lady Stark asked.

"Thank you, Lady Stark." Myrcella began. "It may have been a tough journey, but it is-" She was interrupted by a snicker to her left. Lady Stark turned and glared at her son, who was still chuckling quietly, causing Myrcella to bristle with anger. "Does something I said amuse you, Lord Stark?" Myrcella asked harshly, forgetting all courtesy. The combination of his beauty and seeming mockery of her was ill-suited for Myrcella's temper. Though she may be a Lannister in appearance, she seemed to have picked up some of the Baratheon spirit, and temper along with it.

"Apologies princess." The man said, standing up taller. At least he knew his place Myrcella thought to herself. Before she could respond, a slight smile returned to his lips which both made him even more handsome but even more infuriating. "Perhaps I am unfamiliar with northern humor, but I do not believe I made a joke during my conversation with your mother." Myrcella said, growing nearer to the man and attempting to somehow impose her figure on the broad-shouldered Stark.

"Robb!" Catelyn whispered angrily. "Enough of this."

Despite Myrcella being nary a foot from his face, he turned completely away from her, a slight grin still on his lips and apologized to his mother. "I am sorry mother. It is only-" He began before Myrcella angrily interceded again.

"Lord Stark. I do not find this as amusing as you find this to be. You will tell me this instant what it is you find so terribly funny or I will take your head myself!" Myrcella angrily whispered, trying to keep her voice down so as not to create an even larger scene. At those words, the man broke into even greater laughter, as did two boys about his age that stood behind him.

Lady Stark was now slapping him on the arm and demanding that he behave himself, but he could only apologize between breaths as he continued to laugh directly in Myrcella's face. Unsure of what else to do and growing increasingly angry, Myrcella wound back her arm and slapped the arrogant lordling with every ounce of her strength. Lady Stark gasped and the insufferable man's smile quickly dropped from his face to be replaced by a look of utter shock.

"I will not be made a fool of, Robb Stark." Myrcella said angrily, as she brought her nose closer to his chest.

"Princess Myrcella. I am terribly sorry for the actions-" Lady Stark began to apologize before the man, who was undoubtedly Robb Stark interrupted her.

"No mother. I believe I should be apologizing. I only found the princess' words to be quite humorous."

"And what words would those be Lord Stark?" Myrcella replied, still stewing with hatred for this terrible, stunning man.

"I mean no offense princess, but you said you had underwent a difficult journey, yet it seems you rode within a carriage for the entirety of it." He said, a smug smile on his face.

Myrcella completely forgot about the people around her and about what her mother would say later and glared at the man. "What would you know of difficult journeys Lord Stark? You have never even left the north!"

"Aye. I have never left the north princess, but I would guess that before this trip up the King's Road you had rarely even left the Red Keep." Robb returned assuredly.

Myrcella could feel her face turning red with both embarrassment and anger at his comment. He was annoyingly correct in his assessment, but she would not make him aware of that. "Well perhaps if there weren't men as vile as you in this world, I would be more ready to explore the world." She said, hoping to land the ending blow. She had rarely found a person of her age who was able to battle her wits before this and she would rather suffer the seven hells than allow Robb Stark to be the first.

"I believe we both know that you do not find me to be as vile as you say, princess." He whispered to her so only just the two of them could hear it, before taking a step back with a somehow more arrogant grin.

Myrcella knew her face became an even darker shade of red at his words, but now only from embarrassment and not anger. Had he seen her staring at him, she thought hurriedly? Had he just been flirting with her? She was not sure which angered her more, but she quickly tried to bury it deep within her. Myrcella had already acted in the most inappropriate manner of her life during this interaction; no doubt her mother would scold her mercilessly for it, though the king would likely only find it quite humorous. "Now there is a Baratheon!" He would shout between his cups and Myrcella warmed a bit at the thought.

She cleared her throat and decided to pull herself out of this confrontation. It would do no one any good for it to continue. "Lady Stark, if it would be no trouble, I would like to be escorted to my chambers now." She drawled, looking the elder woman in the eyes.

Lady Stark seemed momentarily troubled, likely because Myrcella had not greeted the rest of her family, but she quickly recovered. "Of course, your highness. If you would follow me." She began, as she turned to lead her forward.

"It was a pleasure your highness." She heard someone say next to her and she immediately knew it was of course Robb Stark. Myrcella turned to meet his gaze and so mostly amusement and arrogance in his eyes. "Actually Lady Stark." She said, still maintaining eye contact with the Young Stark Lord. "I would be honored if Lord Robb could escort me." His body immediately tensed and Myrcella grinned on the inside. She would get the better of him yet.

"Princess? It is really no trouble-" Lady Stark frantically said, obviously worried to leave her son with the princess, who he had quarreled with only moments before.

"It would be wonderful to be shown your home by someone of closer age to myself Lady Stark." Myrcella justified, knowing the woman would likely see through it.

"Of course princess." Lady Stark finally accepted, turning to her son and giving him a harsh look. Myrcella raised her eyebrow in challenge and gave the young man a large grin. She knew he could do nothing but accept her demand.

"It would be an honor your highness." He declared with a far different look in his eye. Myrcella hoped it was defeat; she would not end this day knowing the Stark boy had bested her. Clearly, he was no northern savage as she had expected, but he was still an insufferable shit. That had already been made quite clear to her. He walked to her side and offered her his arm, which she took without hesitation and with an even larger grin. He smiled in return and she almost tripped over her dress as they began to walk. May the gods damn this man, his smile filled her with far too much warmth for her liking.

As they continued walking, it became clear to Myrcella that he was comfortable in silence as he had not uttered another word to her. Perhaps he was simply too dumb to make conversation unless it was japes at her expense, though she would certainly find out for herself now. "Am I not worthy of your conversation Lord Stark?" She asked challengingly.

The man seemed surprised by her words and hesitated before speaking to her. "Of course not Princess." He paused again and met her eyes, which were shockingly warm and without their former arrogance. "Would you call me Robb your highness? I have never cared much for my title in private."

Myrcella was quite surprised by his new attitude, but she suspected he was again trying to mock her and refused to fall for his trap. "I am surprised that you would think yourself to be so familiar with me _Lord Stark._ " She finished, placing high emphasis on his title.

He took her words in stride and remained silent for a moment before responding. "Of course not Princess. Though I would be lying if I said I would not very much like us to your highness."

Myrcella again almost lost her footing at his words. What sort of game was this man playing, she wondered. He appeared very much unlike the man from the courtyard, who was mocking and arrogant. Though he had only said several words to her, he seemed far more at ease and humble, not only in his words, but in his demeanor as well. Gone was the arrogant gleam in his eyes, now replaced by warmth and something else that Myrcella failed to identify. His posture, despite still being quite proper and befitting of a future Lord Paramount, was far more relaxed and inviting than before, yet she still refused to trust this change. "I am sure it would make for a better jape with your friends, if you had me calling you by your given name Lord Stark?" She bitterly stated.

This finally seemed to remove the man from his comfort and he actually stopped their movement. He said nothing at first and she became quite frustrated. "Do you plan on us doing something in this very courtyard Lord Stark?" She asked growing angrier. "That hardly seems proper for an _honorable_ Stark like yourself."

The arrogant Lord finally found his voice again and met her eyes again. "Princess, I haven't the slightest idea what you are speaking of. I apologize if-" He began to grovel before her, until she quickly interrupted.

"Save your apologies Lord Stark. I have met your type before. So no, I will not be referring to you by your given name and we will continue to my chambers, which I will enter _alone_." She muttered angrily.

"My type, my lady?" He questioned, clearly peeved at her words as he forgot to refer to her by her proper titles.

She couldn't control her mouth again and began to spout. "Yes. Your type, Lord Stark. Arrogant heirs to great Lords, who think themselves to be handsome and charming, but are actually insufferable dolts. There are many of them in King's Landing and though you may be handsome and some day you may be Lord Paramount of the north that does not mean I will get on my knees before you and allow you to dishonor me or mock me." She finished, losing her breathe and having worked herself into quite the state.

Rather than thinking through his words like he had before, he immediately responded with a shock-filled voice. "Princess, I can assure you that my intention was nothing like that."

Myrcella tried to calm the shake in her voice and squeezed her hands together. She looked into his eyes, which were now even more open and warm than before. She sighed before speaking again. "Your actions in the courtyard do not suggest as much to me Lord Stark. You were clearly trying to upset and mock me before your friends, just so you could show them that you were better than the great princess of the seven kingdoms, then when we are alone you act like the consummate knight."

"I truly apologize princess." He answered with seeming honesty. "I did not mean to mock you and I truly do prefer to be called Robb. I have no ill-intentions with you. I swear it to you."

She continued to meet his gaze and could find no fault in his eyes. "I would like to believe you Lord Stark…"

"Robb." He returned quickly.

"What?" She responded startled.

"I would truly prefer you call me Robb and not because I would like to convince my friends that I have done anything nefarious with you." He said, his voice still even and strong.

"Then why were you unable to contain your laughter, Lord Stark?" She questioned, still not quite ready to accept his words.

His face reddened at her words with what she assumed was embarrassment at his poor manners. "Princess, I-" He began before Myrcella quickly cut him off; clearly he was trying to have one on her.

"I believe it is time I be escorted to my chambers, Lord Stark." She demanded, refusing to feel upset at the poor treatment she was still receiving by the man. As she began to walk off, he tightened his grip around her arm and pulled her gently back towards him.

"Princess. Truly I am not mocking you and I am not tricking you." He stated again.

"Then answer my question Lord Stark." She requested again, ready to loosen her arm from his and continue on her own, if his answer was not acceptable to her.

"You are the most beautiful women that I have ever laid eyes upon." He said quietly, turning even redder in the face.

That was not an answer Myrcella was expecting and she couldn't help but feel a bit warmer inside because of his words. Seven hells, parts of her were giddy at his words, yet most of her was only more confused and more angry. "How would that cause you to laugh in my face before the whole of Winterfell?" She asked harshly.

The man hesitated and looked even more guilty, but Myrcella continued to meet his eyes and silently demanded an answer. "My laughter at first was genuine Princess." He spoke honestly much to Myrcella's chagrin. "But, mostly that was due to nervousness. Standing before me was the most beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms." He continued with a slight smile, which Myrcella could not help but match. "Then you got angry." The man finished, as if that answered her question.

"How does my being angry have anything to do with my being beautiful?" She questioned, still angry, though admittedly less so after his flattering words.

He again grew red in the face and looked down to his feet. "Well you were already so beautiful and then you grew angry and you became even more beautiful… princess."

Myrcella was taken aback by his words until she quickly realized the meaning of what he said. "You tried to make me angrier, because you thought me more beautiful the angrier I grew?" She asked, already knowing the answer she would receive.

He continued to fail to meet her eyes and responded quietly. "Yes princess."

Myrcella at first did not know how to respond until she broke out into laughter. Not her normal polite chuckle, which she used amongst lords and at court, but her boisterous Baratheon laugh that could silence rooms and was hardly lady-like.

Her laughter was interrupted by the young man before her, who was again looking towards her having regained his confidence. "I was wrong, princess."

"What, Lord Stark?" She asked confused.

"You look far more beautiful laughing, your highness." He said, a small smile on his lips.

This time it was again Myrcella's face that went red, but this time with a blush and not one of anger or embarrassment.

"Thank you…Robb." She said with a shy smile.

"I did not mean to cause you upset princess. Truly." He apologized with obvious honesty that Myrcella was now ready to accept.

"Myrcella, Robb. I too have grown weary of my titles after so many years at court." She corrected confidently.

"Of course, Myrcella." He returned with a smile. "May we continue our walk?"

"I would like that very much Robb. Hopefully, it will not be our last." She said, filled with hope for this man before her, who now seemed so different from other men.

"Likely I will be escorting you to the feast tonight Myrcella. I will be sure to save you a dance." He stated grinning, as they began their stroll again.

"Only one Robb?" She asked mockingly.

"I believe the other men of the north would be quite cross with me if I took too much of your time." He japed.

"They shall have to be cross with you then Robb." She returned, surprised by her own forwardness. "That is as long as you find me beautiful enough when I am happy rather than angry."

"That shan't ever be a problem when it comes to you Myrcella. Now come, I believe you would love to see the glass gardens." Robb said, leading her deeper into Winterfell.

* * *

Myrcella did not know if she was more intoxicated by the strong northern wine or the memories from the feast the night before. Robb (she knew him as nothing but that now) had been wonderful the entire evening. He was a true gentlemen that was for sure, as honorable and well-mannered as any man she had ever met, but he was also quick-witted and kind, not to mention how humorous he was. She had not laughed as truly or as often on the previous night as ever before and it was all thanks to the young Stark lord. This was all besides how incredibly handsome she still found him to be; that would certainly never change.

Myrcella practically danced through the halls as she neared her father's new solar, but she could hardly contain her excitement. When she finally arrived, she greeted Ser Barristan Selmy with a polite curtsy and received a smile and a nod in return before he opened the door for her. While most would need a reason to enter her father's solar, even mother, Joffrey, or Tommen, no member of the Kingsguard would ever prevent Myrcella from entering any chamber she wished. Her father seemed quite surprised by her presence and began to question her, but was interrupted by Myrcella herself.

"Father. I demand to be married to Robb Stark. I will have no other." She commanded, knowing that in this she would certainly have her way.


End file.
